


Love

by LadyJane_BBJFE



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24912370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJane_BBJFE/pseuds/LadyJane_BBJFE
Summary: Gus has a problem.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Gus Peterson-Marcus/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	Love

**Author's Note:**

> During the Covid-19 lockdown, I went on a sentimental journey through my old LJ accounts. Figured I'd continue posting the old stories onto AO3. I don't even remember writing this one, nor its sequel, "Home for the Holiday," but it made me laugh, and that's something in these dark days. 
> 
> Originally dedicated to Xie, in 2007.

“Um, Justin?”

Justin looked up from Art World magazine. Gus stood over him, at fifteen, already taller than Justin. He fidgeted.  
Justin put down the magazine. “What is it, Gus?”

Gus cleared his throat, then looked away from the patio on which Justin had been enjoying his morning coffee, over the pool, down toward the old stables, giving Justin a chance to study his profile. He looked like his father, more and more each day, so much so that Justin couldn’t help his memories from turning back to Brian at 29, at 30, 31… hell until just about two years ago. Back before the grey had started coming in at the temples, oops, sorry: “Silver! It’s silver, Sunshine…” Yeah, okay, no common grey for Mr. Kinney, before the silver had started coming in at Brian’s temples, the small laugh lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, back in the days when he still had that tense, wary look he had lost in the past several years. That look had stopped haunting his face somewhere around his fortieth birthday, when Justin had moved to West Virginia, or maybe around his forty-third, when Gus had moved in.

Gus did not answer, just stood there, avoiding Justin’s gaze even though he had just called his attention, his right thumb tapping nervously against his thigh.

“Gus.”

Those hazel eyes, all Brian, turned to Justin, the jaw line the only thing of his mother in his face, but that was probably for the best, wasn’t it? Brian hated his jaw line, hated it only a little less than he hated beards. Gus was fast losing the last bit of baby fat, that childish look that had softened his features, and was becoming nothing short of chiseled; he would probably be better looking than Brian in another year or so. He was turning into a young man right in front of their eyes, which had probably accounted for Lindsay’s asking Brian to take him for a summer in the first place. Growing up in a household of women, Gus had been unhappy with the cursory contact with his father over the phone, especially in “the formative years when he needs closer contact with his father.” Lindsay’s words. That and the screaming fights she had attributed to the “need for a change of scenery.” Whose need, that was the question.

The entire content of Brian’s conversation with Lindsay over this matter had been a series of agreements on Brian’s part. “Uh huh. Uh huh. Of course he needs manly guidance, but I thought that’s what Mel was for…” Brian had held the phone away from his ear then, and Justin had heard the tinny yelling from where he sat in front of the television, across the room. He had turned to look quizzically back at Brian, who just rolled his eyes and covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “She wants us to take Gus for the summer. They’re having ‘issues.’” Brian used one hand to signify air quotes.

Justin’s immediate impulse had been to say “yes,” so he knew that would be his answer. But first…

“Do we have to talk about this?” Brian asked, still speaking to Justin. Justin could hear Lindsay trying to get Brian’s attention, but she was used to Brian talking to Justin in the middle of their telephone conversations, so Justin figured she could wait. Justin’s regard for Lindsay’s judgment had slipped quite a bit, especially after that whole “But Paris is the center of the art world and you’d be neglecting your career if you didn’t leave the country!” conversation right after his first really successful gallery showing in New York (the show Brian had come to, to Lindsay’s great surprise). His agent had almost killed her.

“Yes, Brian, we have to talk about this. And, yes, Brian, Gus should come for the summer.”

The genuine smile that had graced Brian’s face… There! That was the moment Justin identified as when that haunted look had first left Brian’s face and stayed gone, for a whole night, the first of many nights, and then whole days, beginning after Gus had moved in that summer… and stayed. And stayed.

And Gus had been fine with them. Straight As. No yelling fits from the kid, not really. Certainly not compared to some of Brian and Justin’s fights. Justin had only asked once, sort of, about how Gus felt living with them. “You seem happy here, Gus, this is working out for you?” Gus had looked at Justin a bit oddly, and asked him, “Justin, why don’t you make me call you Dad?”

Talk about a non-sequitor. But at least Justin wasn’t receiving the “duh” look he usually got from a certain other Kinney, notably when Justin wanted to talk about emotions that Brian thought went without saying. So Justin went along with Gus’s question; he had learned to roll with this sort of thing from the Kinney men. “Because you’re more comfortable with calling me Justin?”

“And why don’t you yell at me when I say ‘shit’ or “goddamn it”?”

“Oh, fuck, Gus, Brian’s the king of foul language. I don’t think I’m going to be a hypocrite and tell you to mind yourself when he won’t. Can’t. Won’t.”

“Right. So… do you mind if I call you Uncle Jay? It seems more official. I’ve kind of been calling you that in my own head anyway.”

“Sure!...” Damn kid, knew how to change the subject. But Justin supposed his question about Gus’s happiness with them had been answered sufficiently in any case.

So here they were, two years later, Gus still living with them, enrolled in the local prep school, Justin and Brian… together, more or less. Okay, more. Okay, they were together, period. When he’d first moved down here, Justin had stormed out from time to time, back to Pittsburgh and the loft, where he would take up residence until he decided he missed his easel at Britin, or he woke up in the morning to Brian in bed with him at the loft, telling Justin to get over himself. Which Justin had preferred to believe meant Brian had gotten over himself and this was his form of begging for forgiveness.

Those little outbursts had occurred from time to time the first three years of their living together. And then Gus had moved in. They had indeed had the “Gus moving in” talk, which covered bases such as “no fucking where the adolescent can see” (Justin’s rule), and “making sure the adolescent knows exactly when not to enter the bedroom/cabana/studio/any room with a closed and/or open door from which moans/screams/panting are emitting even if said adolescent thinks there is an axe murder going on” (Brian’s rule) and “making sure Gus knows all about gay sex, real gay sex, between men” (again, Brian), and “condoms as a rule for all sex anywhere at all times” (both). Justin had wanted to wait on these rules until Gus had settled in a bit, and Brian had reluctantly gone along with that, but then a couple of things had happened.

The first was that there came a day when Gus avoided them, wouldn’t look at them, and turned beet red whenever Justin or Brian tried to talk to him, and then tried to find out what the hell the matter was.

So they had instituted the first rule (“We can fuck at Babylon as much as you want, Brian, and hey, I’ll fuck you in the alley behind the diner at noon, just not around the house’s common areas, okay?” “How about when Gus is at school?” “No, damn it, Brian, I don’t want to get into the habit, come on, the kid wouldn’t go in the pool until we’d had it drained and scrubbed”), and then they had carefully explained the other rules to Gus. Gus seemed relieved that boundaries had been instituted. Justin wasn’t sure if Gus considered the boundaries his, or theirs, but whatever. No more painfully embarrassed boy.

And then came the day a month after Gus had moved in, when Brian had pissed Justin off too much for words (he couldn’t even remember the fight now, something about “it doesn’t mean anything”/“yes it damn well DOES” or other, so, in other words, every fight they’d ever had). Justin had stormed out of Britin, back to the loft, and he hadn’t returned that day or night. Gus spent the day and night shut in his own room, before coming out the next day and tearfully asking Brian if he and Justin were broken up now, and if the breakup was because Gus had moved in. This was just like the fights his moms used to have over him, wasn’t it? Were they going to make him go back to Toronto now?

So some other things needed to change there too. Brian declared he hated this stupid domesticity. But then he had cuffed Justin to the bed and declared it his right to do so, ensuring Justin’s staying in one place, so as to make sure Gus wasn’t upset anymore just because Justin had run away like a fucking 17-year old. Stupid kid (Brian meant Justin, not Gus). So, Brian declared, Justin owed it to Brian for putting up with this crap. Justin hadn’t protested too much (well, he protested just enough to ensure the spanking, but that was all), and then Brian decided domesticity wasn’t all that bad, not when it involved bondage.

So Brian had begun almost immediately to look into converting the stables into Justin’s “retreat” aka studio, complete with bedroom and kitchenette so they could leave each other without leaving the property. Now, when Justin stormed off, Gus would go visit him down the lawn, where he would find reassurance that Justin was just painting. “I’m fine, Gus, I’m just painting.” “But you’re upset?” “I’m not upset, Gus, I’m fine.”

“Justin’s fine, Gus, he’ll be back when he’s done with his painting. He always gets emotional, it’s for his work.” So then Gus began dragging his father with him down to check on Justin. “If everything’s fine with you guys, why won’t you come with me?” Little manipulator. Eventually, Brian started coming on his own. “Gus sent me for the hot sex,” he would say, and Justin would roll his eyes, and then he would roll over. The adolescent had made himself a rule, that he would not visit Justin’s studio uninvited when his fathers were agreeing how fine everything was between them.

And it had all worked out perfectly. Well, not perfectly, but just fine.

Yep, it was after Gus had moved in that the tense look had left Brian’s face. And the tense look had never really shown up on Gus’s face, so this was a real puzzle for Justin.

“Gus, what’s up?” Justin asked, looking up at the 15-year old who loomed over him.

“Um, well, Uncle Jay…” Gus scratched his stomach, and nervously shifted from foot to foot.

“Yes…”

“I just… I think I have crabs!” Gus blurted. Then he bit his lips and looked away, but furtively scratched lower on his stomach, and Justin realized that that was probably the real reason for the suddenness of his confession, the poor kid was squirming not from emotional discomfort, but real physical distress.

Oh, shit. He’d have to make sure the sheets got washed. And thank God they had separate bathrooms, Brian would… well how would Brian react?

“Please don’t tell Dad!” Gus pleaded.

“Gus…”

“Don’t tell Dad what?” Brian asked, stepping onto the patio, moving over to the bistro table with his coffee and swiping one of Justin’s mini-muffins before sitting across from him. He sipped on his coffee and looked up at his son expectantly. When he was answered with more fidgeting, Brian glanced over at Justin.

“Well?”

“Gus has crabs,” Justin answered, when he realized Gus wouldn’t reply.

Brian’s hand froze for a split second, but then he continued to set the mug down on the table. “Well, congratulations, your first sexually transmitted bit of nastiness. Who was he? Or, did you not get his name?” Brian chuckled, looking all too pleased with that prospect. Justin rolled his eyes.

“We’ll get some of the shampoo, there’s special stuff…”

“We already have some of that shampoo. It’s in our linen closet.”

“We do? It is?”

“Hey, I was a boy scout, I’m prepared,” Brian explained, his voice taking on the defensive tone he would say he simply did not have. Brian Kinney did not explain or defend. “Anyway, it’s best to just shave to get rid of them. That way, you don’t have to bother with the eggs.”

“Oh my god there are eggs??!!! And I have to shave my entire body!!! Even my head?!!” Gus really looked on the verge of tears now; he hadn’t seriously cried in a while. His childhood was definitely being left in the dust, but there were still traces that emerged under stress. Such as now.

“No, just the pubic hair,” Justin explained, reassuring him. “And,” he added, glaring at Brian and warning him to shut up, “you’ll have to tell your boyfriend about this. Or girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend. You’re kidding, right?” Brian raised an eyebrow, fully expecting his position to be corroborated. He sat up from his slouch. “GUS? Answer me!”

“Oh my God, how am I going to tell Kim?” Gus agonized, dropping heavily into the third seat and burying his head in his arms.

“Kim, as in, how could a parent name their son Kim, right?” Brian glared over at Justin, who was smirking and shaking his head.

“She’s going to kill me!” Gus moaned, destroying his father’s hopeful fantasy.

Justin kicked Brian’s shin. “Fuck! Okay, Gus, look, it’s okay,” Brian finally said. “I understand the girl thing, it’s perfectly natural to be bi-curious…”

“Brian! Gus, did you use a condom?”

“Yeah, Uncle Jay, of course I did!”

“And Kim’s the only one you need to tell?”

Gus looked at his father, then at Justin who was trying very hard not to laugh, and his tears dried up as he nodded his head. “I swear I’m the only kid in my school who has to come out of the closet as a monogamous heterosexual.”

“Are you sure it’s not just a phase?” Brian tried one more time.

“Dad, I like girls. I like A girl. Although she’s probably going to break up with me over this…”

“Gus…” Brian bit his lips, and Justin knew Brian was restraining himself from informing his son that if Gus was monogamous with this girl, he might just want to consider where the crabs came from in the first place. Brian heaved a great sigh before he picked up his coffee mug again, and decided to let Gus figure it out on his own. “Fine. Toss your linens in a garbage bag, we’ll get rid of them. And unless Kim likes smooth balls, we’ve got the lice shampoo in the closet in our bathroom.”

“I thought I was banned from your room.”

“Only when we’re in there.”

Gus stood hastily and left the table, relieved to exit the conversation.

“So at least he’ll break up with the little twat once he figures out she’s a slut,” Brian mused.

“Or maybe he’ll decide that it’s just sex and has nothing to do with the fact that they really do love each other.”

“You’re mean.”

“Hey, he’s using condoms. You’re a good dad,” Justin answered, kissing Brian on the cheek, before rising with a small laugh and leaving Brian to consider the events of the morning.

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian muttered, watching Justin’s ass as he walked away. He wondered if he should go talk to Gus some more. Oh, fuck it, the kid could read a set of instructions on a bottle of shampoo. Brian got up and followed Justin to his studio. It was his day off. He needed to be rewarded for handling the situation so well.


End file.
